Tales of Three Signs
by Omega-Ginger
Summary: What do you get when you combine an Argonian Mage, a Khajiit thief, and an Imperial mercenary? Stories for the ages, that's what.
1. Enter the Mage and Thief

"Oi! Scale breath! Get off me!" Shock-Palm blinked slowly, groggily moving his head off the shoulder of the Khajiit sitting next to him. The semi-conscious Argonian moved his hand to wipe the saliva off his cheek, but found that his hands had been tied up. He was riding in a carriage, most likely for prisoner transport, driven by Imperials in the snowy northern mountains. Another carriage followed closely behind the one he was presently in.

Shock-Palm groaned and murmured to himself. "How long have I been out?" His Argonian accent was unchanged from usual.

"You were caught with me of some of those damned Stormcloaks," the Khajiit next to him answered. "Curse them." He looked over the Argonian mage and noticed the mage's robes. "Under the mage sign, I see? I follow the thief path myself. My name is Zah'Niir." He nodded politely, since his hands were bound too.

"Shock-Palm," the Argonian replied. "My name is Shock-Palm. It is a pleasure to meet you Zah'Niir. Any idea where we're headed?"

"A fort in Eastmarch. Kastov is the name. Home to a prison. I am sure that's where we are heading. I made sure my . . . associates know this and are forming a plot to jailbreak me. I'll see if they can help you too." He looked southward where the carriage was heading. "I hate the cold . . ."

Shock-Palm nodded quietly and tried to focus on the events that led to his capture. Wrong place, wrong time would most accurately describe his predicament. Something about an Imperial ambush and alleged "illegal use" of magic. I suppose sending him flying with a bit or lightning didn't help . . . but that was enough daydreaming for the present. The carriages rolled into the arch of Fort Kastov, slowing their pace slightly before pausing completely.

Zah'Niir looked over at the other carriage and noticed it was almost completely filled with female Stormcloaks. He grinned devilishly and fixed his mane as best as he could. "Hey, Friend, look at the fellow carriage," he noted to Shock-Palm. He turned around his head to look at Zah'Niir and shook it sternly. When he turned around again, Zah'Niir made a face behind his back.

The Imperials began taking names and escorting the Stormcloaks, along with the Argonian and Khajiit, to a prisoner cell, two per cell. Zah'Niir was put into a cell near the corner of the prison room with a Stormcloak woman, while Shock-Palm was strangely put into his own cell next to Zah'Niir, due to fear of spell use on the others perhaps.

After a few hours and some giggling from the neighboring cell, Shock-Palm begins to hear something from above. Explosions, shouting, and screams of the dying. _Shit. . ._ he thought to himself. He needed a plan to get out of here, because those don't sound like the professionals Zah'Niir previously mentioned. They sounded more like advanced mages, and he was in no mood to toil with more of his Sign ilk. He checked his palm as tiny sparks came out. _Good. . ._

"Hey!" Shock-Palm whispered to the next cell. "Skooma tongue! You hear me?"

Zah'Niir shushes the giggling Stormcloak sitting next to him on the bench in their cell and turns Shock-Palm, easily visible through the spacing between the cell wall links. "Sadly, yes," he retorted in a cynical tone. "What do you want, fish? You are interrupting my sexy time with this lovely lady." He gestured to his cell partner. Shock-Palm shook his head and leaned in as close as he could to the Khajiit, causing Zah'Niir to do the same.

"Mages are upstairs," he whispered. Zah'Niir was about to shout out to all the other prisoners, but Shock-Palm shushed him. "I have a plan. It's going to involve you and me. And maybe your Stormcloak friend's friends." As the Argonian whispered his plan to the Khajiit, the mages above ground drew closer and closer. . .


	2. Down With the SignIlk

The sound of magicka grew nearer. The Argonian, Shock-Palm, paced in his cell frantically, plotting his future course of action. His sign was not always embraced by the native Nords, and most others in this land were warriors and peons, so they cared not for debate on whether the school of Restoration is a legitimate school, how Illusion is beneficial, and others. He has grown used to this, but lonely at the same time. The Mage's College was nearby. Perhaps he should slake his interest there. . .

His thought trail ceased when a door was blasted open and several mages dress in black robes, a mix of man and mer, slowly and calmly stepped down the flight of stone steps leading to the prisoner cages in a line along the wall. A few chortled and howled delightfully, but were quickly silenced by the apparent leader of the group. He was an Altmer of mild height, and surveyed the prisoners. "You all could make good experiments," he stated coldly, "but you are all tainted by too long of capture, and I prefer more . . . active subjects myself. I will start and proceed in a simple order. Who wishes to go first?"  
>There was silence, then a creak of a voice. "I would, if you would answer my question first," said Shock-Palm to the group of mages.<p>

The Altmer calmly walked towards the Argonian, his footfalls audible through the stoic silence. "Yes, Argonian?"  
>"Well, I wish to know all of you and your mage friends' fields, respectively, so I may have the knowledge of my killers' 'professions' so to speak," Shock-Palm replied plainly.<p>

The Altmer chuckled, causing his group to chuckle, but silenced them quickly. "I am a Pyromancer, a fire specialist and necromancer. My friends are all illusionists, alteration users, and/or light destruction. I am by far the superior of the group. I convinced these whelps that their "College" couldn't help them like I could. They follow me and learn whilst I gain protégés. Fair trade, I suppose."

Shock-Palm nodded and politely thanked him. He then looked over to the Khajiit in the neighboring cell; the one called Zah'Niir; and nodded. Zah'Niir pulled out a dagger and quickly threw it into the heart of the Altmer mage, prompting Shock-Palm to quickly reanimate the fallen mage, allowing the newly reanimated mage to attack his own mages, spewing fire and reanimating their dead bodies.

The duo had little time. Zah'Niir quickly picked his cell lock, and then proceeded to Shock-Palm's. When he finished, Zah'Niir began picking the locks of the Stormcloak cells. Shock-Palm summoned a fire atronach to help his corpse Pyromancer, who was beginning to falter slightly after several hits. After a few Stormcloaks joined into the fight, the mages were dead, along with the Argonian's corpse. When Zah'Niir finished the last cell, he scavenged his dagger off the dead Altmer and proceeded to indirectly lead everyone to the surface of the fort.

The Stormcloaks loaded up supplies from the fort and were about to leave when a female Stormcloak approached Zah'Niir and Shock-Palm who has begun discussing future plans of companionship. She was blonde-haired, a couple inches shorter than Zah'Niir, and was of "ample chest goodness" as Zah'Niir described it. Her voice was sweet, yet stern, as she spoke to the saner of the two.

"Argonian - Shock-Palm was it? – I wish to join you on your adventures," she addressed him sternly.

Shock-Palm was slightly stunned at the request. He and Zah'Niir didn't even know her, yet she was requesting companionship. "Urm. What do you offer, Nord?"

"I can forge adequately, I carry my own weight, and," she looked towards Zah'Niir, "I can promise I won't run off on escapades for my own personal gain or enjoyment, only the group's."

"Watch it, girlie," Zah'Niir hissed. "This one can fight back."

Shock-Palm stepped between the Nord and the Khajiit and addressed the Nord woman. "We had planned to travel to Winterhold for a few days, allowing me to study up on some new Conjuration and Restoration techniques. If that is not a problem, you may travel with us so long as you keep your promise."

The Nord woman nodded put her battleaxe on her back, and stuck out a hand. "The name is Delphic," she stated.

Shock-Palm accepted the handshake with a smile. "My name is Shock-Palm, as you already know, and Furball here is known as Zah'Niir." He ended the handshake and addressed the two of them. "Now, get whatever gear you want and grab a horse you like. We need to get to Winterhold before night falls."


End file.
